


Patience and Virtue

by toolazytomakeone



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Knight Adora (She-Ra), Knights - Freeform, Princess Catra (She-Ra), Slow Burn, the knight au that's been eating at me, yes adora is a princess too but she doesn't WANT to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toolazytomakeone/pseuds/toolazytomakeone
Summary: The Medieval AU I needed where Adora is the knight and Catra is the princess.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 268





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly inspired by another fic I saw (and can't find :( ) where Catra is a knight fighting for princess Adora's hand in marriage since they were like 14. If you find it PLEASE let me know!! 
> 
> Hoping this reads well - unbeta'd and in quarantine, so it might be a little off, but I'm hoping that with nothing else to do I can actually run with this and make it into maybe a 3-5ish chapter story! Let me know :)

The day started as any other in the kingdom of Half-Moon; merchants rising with the daymoon to sell their wares; common men and women waking to tend to their homesteads and their families; and the royal assistants preparing their rulers for the day’s responsibilities and performances. Some had admittedly easier subjects to wake - certainly, none envied whoever drew the short straw to wake Princess C’yra, the Second of Her Name, as she had a mean streak as long as her kingdom was wide when she was woken before she cared to (and she never cared to wake before the midday’s meal). 

The princess was not a cruel ruler, nor was she unloved by her people, but her temperaments were known far and wide, and the fact that her mother the Queen merely took amusement in her antics was a secret neither. C’yra the First would only say something to the effect of “seeing herself in her dear Catra,” and any royal attendants who knew the Queen as a kitten could only shake their heads in equal parts agreement and exasperation.

The Magicat royal bloodline is known across the lands as fiercely loyal and protective of their people, instilled with unshakeable values of right and wrong, and as such, can be viewed as _lacking_ in other areas of royal decorum. None can deny the longstanding reputation of the happiness of Half-Moon’s subjects, however, and their royal bloodline has been democratically involved in the affairs of their people for as long as history can remember. The Magicats are not seen as prim or proper in the lands afar, but they are invaluable allies in both peacetime and eras of conflict for both their loyalty to their allies and their willingness to negotiate - with their people’s needs at the forefront, always.

Princess Catra (as nicknamed by her mother and her people alike) proved to be no exception to this Magicat tradition, as she frequently expressed her distaste for court politics and desire to be among her people and her warriors as to truly know her subjects and what is best for them. Many a court teacher had given up on fully educating Catra in the ways of the court, her own mother included, with only the hope that her presence among her people across Half-Moon would serve to instill the appropriate values within her. However, Queen C’yra managed to cajole Catra to join her in court this day, promising her free reign among the warriors and her subjects for the next week if she attended and actually participated in the matters of the day.

So far, the court has proceeded as expected: Catra trying her best to not appear bored and failing miserably at the task, with interjections few and far between on her part. Instead of lording herself above her people on her twisting throne carved of the God Tree, Catra merely wished she could sit down with them individually, perhaps at a tavern over a drink, and get to the bottom of the matter at hand, politics be damned. She was fully prepared to lose herself in this reverie for the rest of the court session, until she picked up on the excited whisperings starting to travel throughout the throne room and her ears twitched at the unfamiliar sound of metal footsteps traveling across the cobbled floor.

Catra looked up, and for the briefest moment felt her world slant sideways before abruptly righting itself again. In front of her and the entire court stood an unmistakable Etherian knight - quite the rare sight in Half-Moon, and the fact that the knight was a _beautiful_ woman appearing to be of court-age made the sight nigh-unheard of. The knight had straw-blond hair pulled back at the bangs, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through Catra. Her face was schooled into one of intense concentration, lines drawn in her brow, and the princess noted a small scar bisecting the knight’s left eyebrow, as well as another along her right cheek. Catra felt as though she had to tear her gaze from this woman’s before she somehow saw down to her core.

Catra gave her mother a quick glance to see if she could glean any information about the situation she may have missed while daydreaming, but found perhaps the rarest sight of the day right next to her - her mother, Queen C’yra, the First of her Name, Half-Moon’s fiercest warrior and fairest ruler to date, looking absolutely flabbergasted at the knight before her. Catra quickly turned her attention back to the armored woman, feeling as though the world had just tilted another ninety degrees.

“Your Majesty,” the knight declared, and if Catra had any less court decorum beaten into her she might have let her mouth hang agape - the knight was beautiful, this was true, but the timbre of her voice coupled with the way she held herself with absolute confidence and conviction made her _handsome_ as well. _Who_ is _she?_ , the princess thought.

During Catra’s brief revelation, the knight had taken a knee before her mother, in such an Etherian custom that it only served to make the princess’s head spin even further. The lady knight seemed truly as if she were taken from another world and thrown within Half-Moon’s throne room. Her plating, Catra noted, was polished with care, but spoke to past battles and consistent use. The sword strapped to her back was an imposing longsword with an impressively gilded handguard, and was sheathed within a modest leather scabbard. Alongside the sword, the only other ostentatious part of the knight’s ensemble was the small cloth hung at her waist, dyed the unmistakable blues and purples of Bright-Moon. Catra decided that the world hung solidly upside down at this point.

“I believe I could say the same to you, Princess,” Queen C’yra responded, and Catra shot her another look. _Princess?_ “You are Angella’s youngest, are you not?” C’yra continued.

At the mention of her apparent title, the knight faltered just so, and her eyes dropped to the floor before quickly re-meeting those of the queen. “I am, Your Majesty. Please, forgive my trespass on your court.” Here, she seemed to steel herself and drew a measured breath before continuing, “I am here today in the hopes that I might pledge myself under your name.” The world was officially within another dimension; Catra would have felt less surprise at seeing a flying horse crashing inside the court’s walls.

Gasps and exclamations overtook the court at the knight’s declaration - it was no secret that the kingdoms of Half-Moon and Bright-Moon were on strained terms with one another, at best. No queen from either kingdom had forged alliance with the other in the past four generations, although Queen Angella of Bright-Moon did proposition C’yra near the beginning of their rules. Nearly a century ago, a tyrannical ruler under the name of Hordak had attempted to overtake every kingdom he came across, and he nearly succeeded at Half-Moon, in large part due to the then-queen of Bright-Moon lending him information on the Magicat kingdom. Ever since, Half-Moon and its people have been staunchly suspicious and at times downright hostile towards the subjects and rulers of Bright-Moon, although war between the two kingdoms had been avoided. Queen Angella seemed to be the first to take an interest in mending the relationship, but for reasons yet unknown to the court and even Catra, C’yra refused her invitation of alliance some twenty years ago, and tensions have remained high between the two peoples.

“Silence!” the queen demanded, and the court quieted near-instantly. C’yra stood and walked the short steps down from her throne as to be almost even-leveled with the knight in front of her, and regarded the warrior for quite some time. At her mother’s movement, Catra stood as well, and was admittedly impressed with the knight - Catra has been on the receiving end of her mother’s glare uncountable times, and never has she been able to withstand it unflinchingly as the Bright-Moon woman has before her.

Finally, the queen seemed to reach whatever conclusion she was searching for, and spoke only, “Why, child?”

The Etherian princess was prepared for the queen’s questioning, and began what felt like a well-rehearsed explanation. “Your Majesty, I have come here because I can no longer tolerate the farce being upheld within the halls of Bright-Moon castle. During the wars of Hordak, my ancestors betrayed yours, and we have never apologized nor made moves of reparation. I used to believe that my mother was sincere in her outreach to you before my birth, but now I do not believe any royal living in Bright-Moon will give you and your people the entirety of what you truly deserve.”

Emotion had become to overtake her words, the first the knight had truly shown, and her voice raised as she continued, “I am the youngest of my siblings, and have little power within court, but I have power over myself and my actions. If I cannot affect change in the Etherian courts, I have resolved to affect change here in Half-Moon, in whatever ways I can as a loyal servant of your court.” At this, she lifted her head and met the queen’s stare with a gaze so fierce Catra could have sworn the woman was in battle.

“Queen C’yra, First of Your Name, ruler of the kingdom of Half-Moon, I hereby pledge myself to the service of you and your royal family, as well as the demands of your court and your people, if you would have me. If you should accept me within your halls, I shall henceforth disavow any and all power and connections I may have once held among the court of Bright-Moon, and would remain loyal to you and your people alone.” The court halls were completely and utterly silent. Catra suddenly became aware of her jaw hanging open quite unprofessionally, and composed herself as she looked upon her mother.

C’yra seemed unmoved by the knight’s speech, at least superficially - Catra knew her well enough to read her imbalance in the lash of her tail and the subtle tilt of her ears. Suddenly though, all of her extremities stilled, and she stared unblinkingly upon the knight. _Moment of truth - she never goes still unless she’s about to pounce or show mercy_. Oddly, Catra felt fear and apprehension - not for herself, but for the knight. She found herself believing the stoic woman in front of her, and found herself wanting her mother to choose mercy over disdain.

“Does your mother know you are here?” C’yra asked, and Catra watched the brief flash of pain play across the knight’s face.

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Does anyone?” the queen went on, and her voice had taken on a softer quality to it, one Catra recognized as the tone C’yra took with her when she directly disobeyed orders, but for understandable reasons.

“My sister, Mara,” the knight replied. “I told her of my intentions and she supported me. I left her with a message to give to my mother when she learned of my absence. I am here alone, and I will leave as such if those are your wishes.”

“And where would you go, if I refused you?” C’yra questioned, and it seemed this was the question she was hinging much of her judgement on.

The knight gave pause, but answered, “Truly, Your Majesty? I do not fully know. I would not return to Bright-Moon, that much is sure; I have already forsaken my heritage. Perhaps I would become an errant knight, and aid those I found in distress.” Another pause. “Not Bright-Moon, though,” and this was said with the same conviction she conveyed when she entered the throne room.

The queen gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head, and then turned towards her daughter. “And what say you, Catra? I would rather not squander your rare appearance at court.” She threw Catra the mischievous smirk she would often see reflected in her own mirror, and the princess felt herself panic briefly.

“You want my opinion?” she asked, and at the queen’s nod, gathered herself and spoke plainly, as she often did: “I believe her. I don’t think anyone is dumb enough to wander into enemy territory like this and try to gain anything out of it, even Etherian princesses.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw the knight look briefly scandalized, but her face quickly returned to the same concentrated mask she had been wearing.

C’yra gave her daughter a small smile, and turned back to the knight. “I was thinking the same thing. Rise, knight.” The armored woman appeared taken aback at the quick address, but rose swiftly and met the queen’s gaze once more.

“I will accept your proposition, young one. This does not mean that you will have the instant trust of my council, or of me for that matter. But I see the truth in your words, and the bravery in your actions. Prove yourself to this land, to me and my daughter, and we shall see about these reparations you speak of,” C’yra spoke, and finished with another approving smile. 

The knight, for her worth, tried valiantly to remain impassive, but Catra could practically feel the relief rolling off of her in waves. A seemingly irrepressible smile made its way onto her face, and Catra could start to believe this woman was a princess, if only for the beauty in her smile alone. The world, oddly enough, felt to tip back a few degrees toward normal.

“Your Majesty,” the knight began, “I swear on my name and my life that I will not have you regret this decision, and that I will serve your kingdom until my dying breath. I am eternally in your debt for this generosity, and I will dedicate my life to paying it back.” Her gratitude was plain on her face, and Catra liked her even more for it; it was a rarity to find any court noble who showed herself and intentions so clearly.

“Somehow, I do not doubt that. Your name might not be the best to swear on at the moment, though,” C’yra responded with a laugh, and held her hand out to grasp and cement the deal, as was Magicat custom. The knight regarded the queen’s hand with obvious confusion, but at the ruler’s amused nod, hesitantly grabbed her forearm and shook. 

“What _is_ your name anyway, Princess?” Catra felt herself asking before she could think better of it. “Or would you rather I call you ser, now?”

For the first time, the knight’s eyes met Catra’s fully, and Catra could not repress the shudder that ran down her spine at the intensity that lay within the blonde woman’s gaze.

“Adora,” she said, and her raised eyebrow and tone told Catra that she _would_ rise to her challenges. “Ser Adora of Half-Moon.” The small smirk on her face was enough to send Catra reeling.

_If the world would stop spinning for a moment, I think I just might enjoy this._


	2. Provocations

After their initial meeting inside the Ancient Hall, Catra went exceedingly out of her way in hopes of happening upon Adora. At first, she tried to deny herself this fact, telling herself that with the knight’s presence, it was only befitting of her _as a princess_ to sit in on council meetings and learn more of the relationship between Bright- and Half-Moon. However hard she tried, though, she couldn’t keep the truth from herself: she simply could not get enough of the lady knight. The way Adora met the stares of council members, her measured manner of speaking, her unfaltering dedication to custom and manners - they all served to intrigue Catra. 

Never before had she met a royal who truly came across as humble while still following court procedure to the letter. The princess found herself wanting to know more about the knight; of course she was interested in the specifics of her departure from Bright-Moon, but Catra wanted to know who taught her how to wield a sword, where her scars came from, what compelled her toward knighthood. In all honesty, the intensity of her curiosity frightened her somewhat. Adora had effortlessly gotten under her skin, and it seemed she had no intentions of leaving anytime soon.

One morning a few moons after Adora’s arrival, Catra was involved in one of her favorite pastimes (one of the few that her mother approved of) - training with the Royal Guard. Tradition dictated that Half-Moon’s monarchs were to be warriors as well, and Catra had always been eager to fight alongside her people. The princess appeared to be following closely in her mother’s footsteps in this regard, and she was eager to prove herself in battle soon.

While helping her freshly defeated sparring partner from the ground, she spotted a flash of silver on the edges of her vision. The arena in which the Guard trained was an enclosed courtyard adjacent to the Ancient Hall, where Half-Moon’s court rooms stood. Adora had been staying in the guest quarters there, and had apparently made her way out onto the grounds to watch the training take place. She was clad still in her armor, as Catra had seen her in every chance meeting they had, and the princess wondered if she even had any leisure clothes. _With her dedication to her “duty”? Probably not._

Adora’s eyes met hers, and the knight lifted her hand in greeting; Catra felt herself approaching the other woman before she had even made the conscious decision to.

“Good morning,” Adora said, and every time she spoke Catra could still feel the world wobble a bit. _It’s not my fault her voice sounds like smoke and honey mixed together - get it together. She’s just a knight. A big, stupid, beautiful Etherian knight._

“Morning,” Catra responded, and if it came out a tad strangled she could always blame it on the sparring. She cleared her throat and continued, “What brings you to the Guard’s Yard?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, Your Majesty, but I am quite invested in the art of combat,” Adora replied, with a glint in her eye and a gesture towards her longsword, ever strapped to her back. 

And this was another reason why Catra felt so strongly pulled toward the knight - Adora was completely unafraid to engage her in her verbal spars. Perhaps it came from her own experience as a princess, but her willingness to snark right back at Catra while remaining the perfect example of decorum otherwise consistently threw the Magicat heiress off-balance.

Catra raised her brow and relished the brief thrill of competition. “Could’ve fooled me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move faster than a brisk walk.” Adora’s eyes narrowed a fraction, and Catra felt a smile split her face as she started to circle the knight slowly.

“I don’t doubt you could cut me in two with that fancy sword, but how are you at speed, Princess? Hand-to-hand?” Catra had come full-circle at this point, and Adora had remained still, but her eyes had tracked her the whole time. 

“A knight is trained in all forms of combat, my liege,” Adora responded, and lazily crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t doubt that you’re faster than me, if what I saw before was any indication. But I do doubt your certainty in challenging me.” A small smirk formed on her face as she tilted her head slightly, and Catra became all the more aware of the infuriating few inches of difference in their height. 

Catra stopped her prowl and scoffed. “That sure of ourselves, are we?” she asked, and before the knight could do much more than shrug indifferently, smirk still fully in place, the princess said, “Alright. Me and you, then. No armor, no claws. First to yield loses. Not much doubt in those results, wouldn’t you say?” and she held her hand out to shake.

Adora seemed hesitant for a moment, and Catra feared she may have pushed too far; those fears were eradicated when the Etherian grasped her forearm firmly, and with that same glint in her eyes from before, said, “As long as my success doesn’t count as treason, Your Majesty.”

Catra gave a disbelieving laugh and let her smile from before retake her face. “In your dreams, Princess.” She strolled over to the nearest sparring dummy and leant casually against it, saying, “Let me know if all that plating becomes too cumbersome - I can always lend a hand.” She winked, and settled in against the dummy to watch as Adora rolled her eyes and began to remove her armor.

The princess would be lying if she said her gaze wasn’t glued to the sight before her. Half-Moon had no knights, only warriors who relied on speed and agility and clad themselves in lightweight leathers, and so she had never before been privy to the process of wearing armor. The fact that it was _Adora_ who was removing the suit didn’t help matters either. _She looks like she could lift me up with one hand without strain - dear Ancestors,_ how _are her shoulders so broad?_

Adora seemed to either not notice or not mind the princess’s searching gaze as she deliberately removed her plating with practiced motions. She carefully laid her garments atop a nearby tree stump, leaning her longsword and greaves against the side. Underneath what seemed like a solid forty pounds worth of metal, the knight wore a simple blue tunic and brown trousers, with well-worn leather boots that were underneath her greaves. Adora removed these and the gloves she wore underneath her vambraces, opting to go barefoot and open-handed for the coming spar. 

Rolling her shoulders and turning to the Magicat, Adora widened her stance and raised her hands in a loose guarding position. “At your leisure, Your Majesty,” she said. “If you’ve finished your inspection, of course.” A smirk, and Catra felt her cheeks color entirely against her will.

Catra shoved off from the training dummy and approached the knight, beginning her second prowl around the other woman. She took care to ensure her claws were sheathed as she flexed her hands and eyed Adora in search of an opening to strike. This time, the blonde refused to bare her back to the princess, and carefully followed Catra’s stalk step for step. 

_She’s not quite steady on her bare feet,_ Catra realized. _She hesitates every time her foot hits ground again. Perfect._ Taking another sidestep, the Magicat waited for Adora to raise her foot to follow, and lunged for the first blow. 

Adora was ready for her. While she was undeniably slower than Catra, her reflexes were still impressive, and she was prepared enough to barely dodge the swipe that Catra had thrown her way. Capitalizing on the imbalance of a missed strike, Adora drove forward and managed to briefly snag the fabric of Catra’s red tunic before the Magicat twisted out of her grasp.

“Should have known you’d be the observant, sentinel-in-waiting type,” Catra called from her new distance away from the knight, but the smile that was presently splitting her face balanced out any scorn that might have laced her voice. It wasn’t often that her sparring partners could anticipate her moves; challenging Adora was seeming like a better and better decision every moment. 

“You’re merely easy to read... _Princess_ ,” Adora followed-up, and Catra had just enough time to catch the utterly captivating smirk on the knight’s face before she was charging at her.

Catra was decidedly _not_ prepared for this tactical change, and cursed internally when Adora managed to grasp her forearm and moved to place it in a lock behind Catra’s back. Thinking quickly, Catra took advantage of the height Adora had over her, and suddenly ducked down to move between the knight’s legs. The blonde’s center of gravity was higher - easier to throw off balance - and she was unceremoniously dragged down with Catra and had to let go of the other woman’s arm to stay on her feet. 

Watching Adora stumble sent a shock of giddiness through Catra, and she followed through on her cheeky impulse. Darting entirely through Adora’s legs, Catra quickly turned and _climbed_ the other woman in a flash, coming to a stop on her unfairly broad shoulders. She then covered Adora’s eyes with both hands, and prepared to hold on for dear life. _Try to read me now, muscles._

Adora, still slightly off-balance from Catra’s initial move, nearly fell at the Magicat climbing her back, and when her eyes were covered with callused hands, she let loose a surprised shout. She began to lumber around, vainly trying to pry Catra’s hands from her eyes, and Catra couldn’t contain her laughter at the absurdity of it all. _Why is this so fun?_

“Oh, that’s _it_ ,” she heard from the woman beneath her, and suddenly the both of them were falling - Adora had apparently decided to use Catra’s trick from before against her and had pitched herself backward, sending the pair toward the ground. Now it was Catra’s turn to yelp in shock, and she moved just far enough in time to keep from being crushed by the burly knight. 

Adora wasn’t about to let her go, though. She moved to grapple on top of Catra, but Catra was able to tuck her feet underneath Adora and give the knight a two-footed kick in the stomach. Adora was punted backwards off of the Magicat and gave a wheeze as her breath left her. 

Giving a brief, triumphant laugh, Catra leaped atop Adora and made to pin down her arms and legs; Adora recovered quickly, however, and she rolled them back over to their previous position. Catra was just debating the ethics of possibly tickling the knight’s nose with her tail to wiggle free when she heard a familiar voice ask, “Having fun, younglings?”

At the same time, both women stopped their struggling and looked up to see the queen standing above them, hands on her hips and a bemused smile on her face. Adora seemed to suddenly remember herself, and hastened to extricate herself from the rather compromising position the two of them were in. Her foot slipped in a patch of softer dirt in her panic, and she collapsed again on top of Catra, her hands splayed out on either side of her. Catra gave an offended _oomph_ when she fell - the knight was _heavy,_ damn her.

“Y-Your Majesty, you have my _deepest_ apologies,” Adora stuttered as she resigned herself to simply rolling off of Catra to escape their predicament. Catra tried to ignore the fact that she already acutely missed the contact between the two of them. “This was - is - ” Adora continued, “ _entirely_ unbefitting of a servant of the kingdom, I should have restrained myself, I am - truly, this is - ”

“At ease, knight,” C’yra said, saving the blonde from her panicked rambling. Catra couldn’t help the smirk on her face at seeing the other woman so flustered; she had been trying for days now to see _any_ crack in that unwavering confidence. _Blushing desperation suits her._

“Catra,” C’yra went on as she turned to her daughter, and the princess felt herself blanch slightly, “what have I told you about fighting royal guests?”

“That it doesn’t count if they’ve renounced their royalty?” Catra tried, and winced slightly when she saw her mother roll her eyes exasperatedly. 

“Clearly, the two of you haven’t wasted any time getting acquainted with one another,” the queen stated, addressing the both of them now. Adora opened her mouth, most likely ready to continue her apologies, when C’yra raised a hand to quiet her.

“And I’m _glad_ for it,” she said, and her expression had taken on one of bemusement rather than annoyance. “Frankly, ser, I’ve been at a loss on how I might employ you in your first duties to Half-Moon, but now I think I might have an idea.”

“As the Royal Punching Bag?” Catra quipped, and Adora glared at her as the queen smacked her in the face with her tail. 

“No, daughter dearest - as your accompaniment to the Kingdom of Storms.”

“What?” Catra exclaimed as she rubbed her cheek - her mother’s tail flick _stung_ \- “Who said I was going to Storms? And I don’t need a bodyguard, I’m perfectly capable on my own!”

“In the Guard’s Yard, yes. You’ve yet to see battle on your own, however, and Ser Adora has; I’d rather you not be alone on this journey. As for the reason itself,” she said as she walked over to and sat upon another tree stump, “Princess Scorpia has been betrothed to the Princess of Plumeria, and I’d like for you to go and give our congratulations - you know Plumeria could be a powerful ally.”

“Especially considering...recent developments between Half- and Bright-Moon,” Adora spoke hesitantly, gesturing to herself vaguely. Catra gave a begrudging noise of agreement; Plumeria had always remained carefully neutral in the conflict between the Etherians and the Magicats, but made it no secret that they were allies of Bright-Moon. By now, it was almost a certainty that word had gotten out about Adora’s departure from her kingdom, and there was the very real possibility that her mother might stage a retrieval effort for her. If worse came to worst, allies might be called upon and conflict might ensue. It would only be wise to try to gain approval from as many neutral parties as possible before anything serious happened.

“Fine,” Catra acquiesced, “it makes sense, but that doesn’t mean I like being a political pawn, Mother. You know that.”

“I do,” C’yra agreed, “but if you’re ever to take the throne after me, you have to become accustomed to it at some point, kit. Besides, it’s not like I’m sending you to a policy council - you’ll be going to an engagement celebration.” She stood and outstretched her hand to Adora, who tentatively took it and let the queen help her to her feet. She turned to Catra and extended her arm in the same manner. “I’m sending you out to a party, with your new favorite knight as your guest.”

Catra threw her a glare without any real heat behind it and stood on her own, ignoring her mother’s hand. “She’s not my favorite knight,” she grumbled, and C’yra just laughed at her daughter’s prickliness. 

“You might have to do a better job of convincing yourself of that one, love,” and this time it was Catra who took a swipe at her mother with her tail. The queen dodged it easily, and put the princess in a headlock and affectionately mussed at her mane, all while Catra yowled her annoyance but made no move to seriously break from the hold. 

C’yra released her, and Catra leapt over to the tree stump that held Adora’s armor and lashed her tail, trying her best to beat her mother in their impromptu staring contest. She lost, like she always did.

She huffed and looked over at Adora, momentarily forgotten, and found that the knight was rather blatantly staring between her and her mother, confusion plain on her face. _Was there relief in there too?_ At Catra’s questioning eyebrow, Adora said, “I just… Half-Moon is a whole new world, compared to Bright-Moon.”

“Etherians not that fond of rough-housing?” Catra asked, sly smile on her lips, and watched as Adora merely shook her head, still seeming to be adjusting to this revelation. 

“Come on, Ser Knight,” Catra said as she moved off of the stump and picked up one of Adora’s belts - the one with the colors of Bright-Moon still dyed upon a hanging cloth - and threw it the knight’s way. The blonde caught it easily, and appeared to be snapped out of her daze. “We’re going to have to get you some new colors if you’re going to have the Princess of Half-Moon on your arm in Storms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went with the Kingdom of Storms for Scorpia's kingdom, since it seemed fitting for the Black Garnet's powers, and we know next to nothing about her canon kingdom other than it was given up to the Horde.
> 
> armor terminology in case you needed to look it up like i did --> vambraces = wrist guards, greaves = shin guards
> 
> wrote this very fast!! inspiration has struck me!! perhaps the promise of a medieval Princess Prom also motivated me!! i am definitely having too much fun writing this!!!
> 
> please let me know your thoughts/suggestions/comments - still very new to writing, so i welcome anything you have to say :)


	3. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so it's been a HOT minute but quarantine's been sort of kicking my ass and writing's been hard :,( but we're back!! it is....Not Yet princess prom i know i'm sorry but i just could NOT get the idea of the two of them getting royally trussed up together out of my head, and this sort of intermission chapter was born.

The days that passed between Queen C’yra’s request and the duo’s actual leave for Storms were filled with activity. The pair were subjected to numerous different court meetings about the current state of affairs between Storms, Plumeria, and Half-Moon, to the point of Catra threatening to not go at all if she had to listen to the court’s advisors drone on for another minute. 

After one particularly gruelling lesson on Storms’ court etiquette, Catra caught Adora’s hand as they left the advisors’ room and pulled her away from the Guard’s Yard, where she ostensibly always went when she had the chance. 

“My lie- Princ- _Catra,_ what are you doing?” Adora stumbled; Catra had since insisted that the knight use her familiar name in conversation, and it never failed to amuse her to see Adora struggle between respecting her wishes and respecting her status.

“Taking you somewhere much more exciting than Tir’an’s boring lectures,” Catra responded, and continued to lead Adora down the hallway further into the Ancient Hall. She most certainly did _not_ hold on to Adora’s hand longer than was strictly necessary - the Hall’s passageways were winding and the knight wasn’t used to them yet. Catra was purely being polite, is all. 

The princess eventually led them down a short flight of stairs to a rather unassuming door in the Hall’s lower levels. She had just enough time to shoot a glance and a wink over her shoulder at her ( _not mine, the kingdom’s_ ) knight before throwing open the door in a grand gesture.

Catra was privy to the look of shock and wonder gracing Adora’s face before turning around herself to take in the sight of the Royal Finery. She could hardly make fun of the knight for her reaction, as she fondly remembered several childhood escapades to the Finery, exploring the tales the rich tapestries told and letting her imagination run wild with the various bits of royal dressware littering most available surfaces.

What was most breathtaking about the room, however, was the incredible view of Half-Moon out of the wall-length balcony jutting out of the western border. Half-Moon’s tailors went to great strides to accurately represent their people in their attire, and so took heavy inspiration from the daily looks and actions of the townspeople they could see from this vantage point. Catra would often sneak down here in her youth not for the garments, but simply to watch the people she had always vowed to protect and serve. She would be lying if she said the room did not hold a special place in her heart.

“Catra, this is... _incredible_ ,” Adora breathed, and Catra was gently removed from her memories of the Finery. “Is this your people’s history?” Adora pointed to the numerous tapestries and murals hanging on the walls, each depicting a key scene in Half-Moon’s lifetime - some battles, some political negotiations, others important marriages and celebrations.

“It is, but they’re not what we’re here for,” Catra responded. “Maybe I’ll give you an in-depth history lesson some other time; for now, lose the armor, Muscles.” Another wink, and another glimpse of rose on the knight’s cheeks - could anyone blame Catra for trying to chase that sight?

“Wh-what? Oh moons, is this another of your pranks? I swear if I get ambushed by another warrior in training -”

“Your only battle will be with my pins, today, Ser Knight,” interrupted a figure Adora had failed to see on the other side of the room. He wore a smirk that spoke to his own experiences with Catra’s “pranks”, but still clearly took amusement at Adora’s predicament.

“Aw, Amon, you couldn’t let me run with that one a little? You know it’s one of my favorites,” Catra playfully complained.

“ _Not_ after your last little ‘adventure’ in here with the towns-children,” he retorted, pin in hand pointed squarely at the princess. “I’m still picking feathers out of my skeins.”

“And _I_ _’m_ still saying I have no idea how those tykes smuggled in a brood of chickens!”

“Hm, I’m sure they learn by example.” Amon kept his eyes narrowed at Catra for a moment, but returned his attention to Adora. “Anyway, Ser, for once our lovely lady has a point - plates off, please.” Catra most certainly did _not_ make a rude gesture in Amon’s direction while Adora was looking his way - _‘Lovely Lady’ my mangy tail, Amon._

“I’m - I’m still very confused.” Adora had her hands up in an almost defensive posture, and Catra had to stifle a laugh at her expense.

“Were you planning on attending the engagement ceremony wearing that?” Catra responded, and gestured at the knight’s armor, ever worn by its owner. Adora had taken to walking the Hall without her greaves, a sign of comfort Catra was pleased to see, but had yet to remove the suit fully. 

“I -” Adora glanced down at her attire. “Yes?” She looked back at Catra with an expression of pure confusion. _Ancestors, why do I always go for the daft ones?_

Thankfully, Amon came to Catra’s aid. “Ser, while you do make cumbersome metal look surprisingly dashing, you’ll never be let onto a Storms dance floor looking like you’re ready for battle.” 

“But I have to be prepared to protect my charge and any others at a moment’s notice,” Adora replied with that same casual conviction that Catra had come to be quite fond of. “How am I to do that unprotected?”

“That, dear, is _my_ job to worry about. Do you really think we let our royals go out celebrating without any fail safes?” Amon responded easily, and moved back towards his workstation. “Now come here and let me take your measurements - no armor.” His tone brooked no argument.

Adora gave a last pleading look Catra’s way, but the princess was already walking towards her. “If it gives you any comfort, Amon’s going to be torturing me with his pins as well, so you won’t be alone.” Without pausing, she grasped the knight’s wrist and led her towards the measurement stand.

Amon was an efficient and talented tailor, which _almost_ (in Catra’s opinion, at least) made up for his snark. He quickly took stock of both Adora’s and Catra’s dimensions and got to work on preparing their outfits for Storms, commanding them to stay put in order to swatch potential colors and fabrics against their complexions.

Before they knew it, both women were beckoned to their respective changing stations and trussed up in prototypes - both suffered minor casualties from Amon’s wayward pins. The tailor bade them to stay put as he grabbed a floor-length mirror - “Peek and be pricked!” - and finally called for the both of them to re-enter the common area to inspect themselves.

As Catra turned the corner, she froze at the sight of Adora ahead of her; she simply couldn’t help herself. Even in an unsewn and pinned-together ensemble, the blonde managed to look positively stunning - Amon had chosen a crimson red doublet to pair with black trousers for the knight, and Catra could barely tear her eyes from the way both accentuated the other woman’s physique. Her shoulders were broad and defined, as were her biceps and thighs from carrying the combined weight of her armor and longsword nearly everywhere she went. Seeing her in Half-Moon’s traditional warm color scheme just seemed to make Catra’s stomach flip even more. _If the last thing I do is get her to wear less_ more _, I’ll die happy._

“Well Princess? To your liking?” Amon was sending her a decidedly devilish grin, and Catra got the impression he was not talking about her _own_ clothing; her indignation was what finally tore her eyes from the knight across from her. She glanced at her attire in the mirror - a tasteful burnt orange tunic with a matching crimson cloak draped over one shoulder, pinned with a brooch of Half-Moon’s sigil.

“You’ve done worse, Amon,” she conceded, and looked back at Adora. The other woman was staring right back at her, and seemed to give a small start at catching Catra’s eyes. Catra noticed that her blush was _much_ easier to spot on her pale complexion when she was already wearing red. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever in her lineage decided red was to be a royal color of Half-Moon.

“This is wonderful, sire,” Adora said to Amon, “but I can’t take from your royal finery, I insist, I’ll simply employ a local -”

“Nonsense, Knight.” Amon beat Catra to the punch of denying her unwavering politeness. “It’s _your_ royal finery now, too, is it not?”

“My deepest thanks,” she replied, and again Catra could see plainly that she meant it fully. “I’ll try my hardest not to tarnish it en route to Storms,” she continued with a sheepish smile.

“Knowing Amon, if anything happens to it we won’t have any political espionage to worry about - he’ll take us out on his own,” Catra retorted, and just barely managed to avoid the pin thrown her way with a laugh.

After shooting another long-suffering glare the princess’s way, Amon turned back to Adora and said, “I appreciate the sentiment. Now off with them, if you please - I’ve work to do.”

The tailor helped both of the royals out of their precarious garments and told them to return at week’s end for the finished products before ushering them unceremoniously away from his station. The afternoon had passed quite quickly during the fittings, and from the windows the two could see the first moon beginning to dip below the horizon, bathing the city in reds and oranges.

“C’mon,” Catra said as she lightly grabbed Adora’s hand and led her to the balcony. She could hear the knight’s gasp as she took in the city fully from this viewpoint, and the princess found herself turning away from the sight in front of her to gaze at the woman at her side. 

Adora’s face was the perfect picture of wonder and awe, and Catra could not turn away from the unfettered joy on the other woman’s face. So often was it carefully blank, or measuredly polite, or even playfully annoyed, that Catra instantly went about memorizing this simple happiness. _I want to see it more_. The thought struck her hard, and then - _I want to be the reason for it_. Thankfully, no further revelations came, as Catra’s mind seemed to simply turn itself off after that one. 

Adora turned back towards Catra, smile still dominating her face, and her expression changed to something softer when she realized Catra was already looking her way. “Thank you,” she said, voice gentle to match, “for showing me this. And for the outfit - I admit I didn’t bring much in the way of finery here.” Her eyes let Catra know she was poking fun at herself, and again the princess was met with a wave of affection for the knight.

“Yeah, well, don’t let Amon see your wardrobe until it’s filled out a bit,” she responded, lacking any bite it may have had normally. She looked back at her city in a dual effort to hide her coloring cheeks and to keep from doing something mind-achingly stupid under the knight’s gentle gaze - _like lift my hands to her face, or trace her scars under my fingertips, or lean in -_ wow _the city looks pretty. Very nice. Definitely my entire focus at the moment._

She heard Adora hum in agreement beside her, and Catra focused very hard on enjoying the moonset. She was just starting to regain her composure when she felt movement - Adora, turning… _back_ to the view? Had she not looked away from Catra when she broke eye contact before? Had Adora been looking at… _her_ for the past few moments?

They spent the rest of the moonset beside one another in comfortable silence while Catra tried very, _very_ hard to get her mind to turn back off like it had before, to no avail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i plan for the next one to be the journey to and at least part of princess prom so that will be coming!! as always please leave your thoughts/comments - who's ready to combust once s5 drops? you'll hear my explosion coming distantly from the central usa, don't worry :)


	4. Progressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha im going to pretend like it hasn't been nearly two months since i last updated this :) life's been rough lately but canon catradora has, on fact, given me the will to live still. WOW this show means a ridiculous amount to me and im still not over it. anyway enjoy my entirely self-indulgent sidebars i keep writing <3

A far too smug-sounding shout of, “ _Good_ _morning_ , Princess!” was the first assault on Catra’s senses that morning; the second was the blazing light of the moons flashing into her eyes as her heavy curtains were flung wide.

Hissing on instinct, Catra was quick to cover her eyes and take a half-hearted blind swipe in the direction of her windows, which was only met with an amused laugh. _Who in the Gods damned -_

“My, you have _terrible_ bedhead, Princess. Is it always like that?”

“Adora?” Catra asked incredulously, her voice still thick with sleep. “What in the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“I believe I’m waking my royal consort up to prepare for our journey to Storms.” Catra could _hear_ the smirk on the knight’s face. “I may also be exacting a… small amount of revenge for sending the townschildren after me the other day.”

Catra’s bleary eyes were now open, and she could see what was perhaps the smuggest look she had ever seen on Adora’s face looking back at her from her windowsill. The knight had one eyebrow raised, a half-smile on her lips, and her arms crossed over her chest. _Idiot,_ was the first and only thing to cross Catra’s mind.

“Oh, aren’t you proud of yourself,” the princess grumbled, and flung herself back onto her bed. “We said we wouldn’t leave ‘til midday,” she groaned. 

“We did,” Adora agreed, “but I got word from the royal scouts that there’s to be some bad weather later in the day. To compensate, we’re leaving earlier.” Catra, eyes firmly closed in protest, could hear Adora push off of the windowsill and make her way closer to the bed as she spoke. Now, the knight lent directly over her prone form. “Don’t make me come down there.”

Catra cracked one eye open. “Touch me and I’ll give you a new set of scars.”

Adora still had her arms crossed, and was bent at the waist to peer smugly over Catra. _She’s not wearing her plates,_ was all Catra had time to think before the knight whispered, “I’d like to see you try,” cocky smile still in place.

Another swipe Adora’s way, this one much more accurate, that was dodged again as Adora straightened out. The momentum unfortunately brought Catra up into a sitting position, from which she hoped her glare would distract from the blush she knew graced her cheeks. 

Adora had taken a few steps back with another laugh, and Catra was able to see that she indeed wasn’t wearing any of her armor. The knight must have made a recent stop to a town tailor, as the tunic she was wearing was a dark red rather than the blue staple she had had previously. Before Catra could successfully commit the sight to memory, Adora called out, “If you want to get me back, you’ll have to get up!” before turning on her heel and running out the door.

 _She’s going to be the death of me,_ she thought, before leaping out of bed and running after her _ridiculous_ knight.

~*~

After their brief stint around the Royal Quarters where several threats of bodily harm against Adora were made, the two women called a truce and began to seriously prepare for their travel. They had spent the previous days packing most everything, and their only truly time-consuming task was eating breakfast. The cooks were just about ready to throw them out of the kitchens for their antics, but they took their leave before anything _too_ serious was broken. It was undeniable - both women were practically bursting with excitement at the prospect of starting their journey.

In the days since their trip to Amon, Catra could tell that Adora was truly beginning to relax around the Ancient Hall. She engaged in conversation with the court’s advisors more willingly, and had seemed to have a Queen’s Guard member or two that she regularly trained and was friendly with. Not to mention how she opened up around Catra - they playfully bantered nearly all the time, sparred together occasionally, and they often found themselves in one another’s company during the evenings. It had felt entirely natural to fall into step with Adora in this way, and Catra would be lying if she said she weren’t looking forward to getting even more time alone with the knight. She always stopped her train of thought short if she ever began to wonder too seriously on if Adora might feel the same, though.

Now, after bading a surprisingly watery goodbye to the Queen (“Don’t give me that look kit, I’m still your _mother_ ,”), the two were officially on their way to Storms. It was to be a relatively short trip, with their destination about a two days’ ride from Half-Moon. Magicats tended to prefer to travel on foot, using their natural agility and ease in nature, but with their deadline of the ball and Adora’s decidedly cumbersome profession, the pair went off on horseback. 

(When they had stopped at the Royal Stables, Adora went straight to greeting her pure white steed, Swift Wind. At Catra’s teasing towards the horse’s admittedly ridiculous name, Adora merely smiled sadly and explained: “I named him when I was only 13. He’s my only friend from hom- _before._ ” The princess and knight shared a quiet moment at that, before Catra brushed gently past Adora to greet her own steed, Melog. Her lingering touch upon the blonde’s hand with her tail was something neither acknowledged, but both appreciated.)

Catra was beginning to see the wisdom behind Adora’s early start to their day - the clouds overhead were rapidly darkening and the two had been traveling for only about half a day. She threw a glance Adora’s way and saw the other woman already looking back at her with concern on her face.

“We should find shelter soon,” the knight said, and Catra quickly nodded her agreement. The next half hour or so was filled with a tense silence between the two as they scouted for a suitable place to camp.

“Ah - there!” Catra called; about a hundred yards to the west of the path was a rocky outcropping, with a just barely visible crack in its surface that spoke to a cave within.

The two quickly steered their horses over to the bluff and made quick work of an overhanging tent to provide their steeds with some shelter for the night. Seeing the latent worry in Adora’s eyes as she tied down Swift Wind, Catra offered to find kindling for a fire to give the knight some privacy with her horse.

“You’re sure?” Adora asked, but Catra could tell she was thankful for the offer and just nodded back at her. “Alright well, I think I saw some shrubbery back - _Catra!”_

The princess looked down from where she had already climbed halfway up the cliff face. “What? There’s trees up at the top, I saw them on the ride in. I’ll be back in flash, princess.” She threw Adora a wink and kept climbing before the blonde could protest any further. 

A small grove of trees waited for her at the top of the cliff, and her claws let her easily slice strips of bark and smaller branches off their limbs. Once she had a sizeable pile, she turned to climb back down the cliff as the first raindrops began to fall. Shifting them to one hand, she easily made her way back down to solid ground and landed with a soft _thud_ alongside Adora, who had been watching her descent cautiously. 

“I should consider it a lost cause to convince you not to climb things, shouldn’t I?” Adora asked, with a resigned look on her face. 

“Aw, jealousy’s not a good look on you princess,” Catra retorted, making her way into the cave. “Maybe if you lose the armor every once and a while you could jump more than a few inches.”

“I am _not_ jealous!” Adora responded, following Catra in. “And I can jump plenty high, thank you,” she added in a grumble.

Catra scoffed - with no small amount of fondness - and went about setting up their fire for the night. She lit the flame with ease, and Adora began unpacking their supplies and bedrolls.

“On the menu we’ve got salmon or… salmon,” Adora said as she rifled through their preserves.

“I think I’m partial to the salmon,” Catra chuckled. 

“Excellent choice, my liege.” Adora doled out portions of smoked salmon with a wry smile on her face, and Catra found it impossible to not return it.

They ate in companionable silence for a while as the rain droned on outside. The cave quickly became cozy with the pair’s combined heat alongside the small fire, and Catra soon found herself completely relaxed, sat against one side of the hollow. She took the opportunity to simply watch as Adora set about her nightly task of removing and tending to her armor. She started with her vambraces and greaves, then the cuisses upon her thighs, the pauldrons across her shoulders, and finally her breastplate. The knight laid every piece beside her with the utmost care, and wiped away any stray stains with an oiled cloth she procured from her supplies. 

Finally, it was just another woman sitting across from Catra - an entirely too handsome and composed woman, but they were no longer princess and protector. Here, Catra thought, they could merely be equals, perhaps even friends, and this thought gave her a newfound burst of courage.

“Do you ever tire of it?” she asked, once Adora had stripped herself bare of her plates and was carefully rearranging them to her side. 

Adora quickly shot her a look of confusion. “Tire of what, Catra?”

“You know, the armor. The wearing, the carrying, the caring for it. It all seems so… well, tiresome. Don’t you ever want to just go to the market in plainclothes, not have to bother with the whole routine?”

“No,” Adora responded almost instantly. She furrowed her brow as she continued, “I was well aware of the duty I agreed upon when I entered knighthood, and I’m well aware of it now. I protect and serve, princess, even when I’m just visiting the market. It’s my job.”

“Why?” Catra was met with another confused face. “I mean, why knighthood? Why choose that burden for yourself? Believe me, I would die for my people in a heartbeat, but I didn’t _choose_ to be their princess. You chose to be a knight of the people. Why?”

Adora paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before she re-met Catra’s eyes with that intense conviction that never failed to send shivers down the Magicat’s spine. “Because it’s what’s right, Catra. Even when I was young and just beginning down my path to knighthood, I knew that just staying a pawn of Bright-Moon’s court wouldn’t let me do all the good I knew I _could_. And I have to do as much good as I can. Don’t I?”

Adora’s last few words came out smaller, slightly desperate, and Catra wondered, not for the first time, just what exactly the court of Bright-Moon was like. _My royal upbringing certainly didn’t emphasize self-sacrifice like that._

“You could argue we should _all_ do as much good as we can, Adora. But sometimes you’ve just got to go to the market, or want to sleep in a little longer. We’re not meant to serve others every moment of our lives. You’re allowed a break every now and then.”

At this, Catra stood and walked over to Adora’s side where their supplies sat, and grabbed an extra blanket that lay amongst the bags. “Like now,” she said, as she lay the blanket atop the carefully constructed pile of armor so that no shining silver could be seen. “No armor, no knighthood. Just Adora.” 

Adora stared up at her with wide eyes, confusion and perhaps some indignation on her face. After a beat, her eyes narrowed, and she pointed at Catra’s shoulder. “Fine,” she said, “No princess either.” 

Catra followed her gaze and looked down at the pin of Half-Moon’s insignia holding her traveling cloak at her collarbone. She chuckled, and removed the pin and held it aloft. “No princess,” she agreed, and tucked it into one of the folds of the blanket covering Adora’s armor.

She sat down again, now within arm’s reach of Adora, and declared, “No knight and no princess. Just two dashing young women in a cave together without any political obligations between them.”

Adora laughed - _Ancestors, what a sound_ \- and turned to look fully at Catra, color high on her cheeks. “You think I’m dashing?” she asked with a brow raised and that damned cocky smile back on her face. 

“You wish!” Catra replied, with a shove at Adora’s shoulder to hopefully hide the blush she knew was on her face. The blonde laughed again, her head thrown back from it, and Catra decided the momentary embarrassment was worth the sight. 

The two sat and let the comfortable energy between them settle into something that made Catra’s heart warm the longer it lay, the rain becoming a soothing melody in the background. “I rather like just-Adora,” she said without thinking, and began to backpedal when she realized what she had said. “I mean, I don’t dislike _Ser_ Adora, of course, you’re obviously the same person, I only meant -”

She stopped short when she noticed the way that Adora was looking back at her. Her gaze was full of something Catra desperately wished she could identify, but which could not be denied its intensity. Slowly, Adora’s lips curled up into a small, warm smile, and Catra knew that she would climb a thousand more cliff faces to see it again.

“I like just-Catra, too,” Adora responded, and closed her eyes contentedly as she let her smile overtake her face. She reopened her eyes after a moment, but kept staring at Catra with that same warmth in her look.

 _I wonder if she knows what she just did,_ Catra thought. _Slow blink, open body posture. The ultimate sign of trust among Magicats._

 _Screw it_. Catra returned Adora’s smile with a genuine one of her own, and relaxed her body while she closed her eyes for a full moment, two, and reopened them to find Adora’s face again. 

Adora was still gently beaming back at her, but seemed unaware of the enormity of the gesture Catra just made towards her. _I’ve only ever done that with my mother, and even then only a handful of times._

Adora tried and failed to stifle a yawn, and gave a sheepish smile Catra’s way. Catra rolled her eyes, her smile still on her face.

“We did have an _early start_ this morning,” she conceded, with a pointed quirk of her brow. “Come on, just-Adora. Sleep counts as a break from knighthood, too.” 

As the two laid upon their bedrolls beside the now dwindling fire, Catra fell into sleep with one thought in her mind: _maybe I’ll tell her what it means one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always please let me know your thoughts, i love u all and hope you're all having an okay time and if u aren't then i hope these pining medieval dumbasses can give you at least a little cheer <3


End file.
